


The Damned Top

by WritLarge



Series: Inception Bingo 2017 [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Background Relationship, Community: inceptiversary, Dom POV, Inception Bingo, M/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 16:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11559213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Dom wakes up, but not where he expected.(2nd alternate continuation of "If, If, Fucking If")





	The Damned Top

**Author's Note:**

> Another Dom is dreaming possible outcome. Can be read as a continuation of “If, If, Fucking If” Technically, it could be set after any time Dom has died, though definitely post-movie.

“Jesus Christ, Dom.” Dom snapped awake to see a furious Arthur and Nash looming over him.

“You should have told us how bad it was getting, you asshole,” Arthur scowled and stalked out of the room. Dom sat up and stared at his surroundings. An apartment. It was sparsely furnished and vaguely familiar. The heat in the room was oppressive, his sweat soaked shirt sticking to his skin, windows thrown open but no air moving through them. 

Nash reached for the line in his arm, sliding the needle out and giving Dom a pad of gauze to press against the wound.

What happened?

“Cobol?” But Nash was shaking his head at him.

“We never took the Cobol job,” Nash frowned, looking down at Dom. “Nice to know how highly you think of me, by the way.”

Oh. Oh, fuck. Cobol and everything after – that had been in his head?

“You came into the dream?”

“We tried,” he snorted. “It was a shit show. Your shade went fucking Machiavelli, kept leading you down deeper.” Both Nash and Arthur hated the shade of Mal that would appear from time to time, complaining that she was cold and dark in a way that the real Mal had never been. 

“It’s your own fault though, switching your totem to that damned top,” he continued.

“It worked.” Eventually.

“It worked for Mal. Your psyche is fucked up as hell over that thing.” Dom couldn’t argue that. All a damned dream. No Saito then. And no going home.

“How did you bring me out of it?”

“Arthur called his boyfriend-”

“Not my boyfriend!” Arthur shouted from the other room.

“- who had some connections to some genius chemist.”

“In Mombasa.”

“Yeah,” Nash blinked at him. “How’d you know that?”

“Dom probably overheard us talking and absorbed the information subconsciously,” Arthur had returned to room holding a loaded syringe. He glared at Cobb until he held out his arm for the shot. “We altered with the somnacin formula to bring you into a lighter sleep state with Yusuf’s advice. This should help even you out.”

“Are they here?”

“Not the chemist, but Eames is around somewhere.” Dom looked pointedly at Arthur who sighed. “He went under into your dream and made a few tweaks while-”

“To my subconscious? You let Eames mess around in my head?”

Arthur scowled again, “Shut the fuck up. You’re awake, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Yeah, okay. That was a point. He didn’t like to think of Eames playing mind games with his subconscious, but in the end, whatever he and Yusuf had done had worked. “How long was I under?” 

“Three days. Your dream state was all over the place. You’d talk in your sleep but you still wouldn’t wake up. Not even with a kick,” Nash explained.

He remembered then. He’d gone under between jobs, dreaming on his own to talk to Mal. Apparently, he hadn’t woken up into reality after, but into another part of the dream instead. 

His dream, his projections... During the inception job Ariadne had argued with him about visiting Mal, warning him. Had that been a part of his mind trying to fight back? Had Eames somehow been playing the parts of his subconscious against each other? He’d have to ask. Arthur managed dreams well and was top notch above, but Dom had yet to meet anyone who instinctively grasped the psychological intricacies of dreaming the way Eames did. 

“We’re still in Dar es Salaam?” Nash nodded. Lucky it had happened here then. “Where’s my ring?”

Arthur finally seemed to relax with the request, smiling a little as he pulled the wedding ring out of his pocket. Dom slid it back on, relishing in the smoothness of the metal save for the slightly rough inscription inside and a tiny dent banged into one of the edges during a trip he and Mal had taken to Barcelona. He never should have taken it off. 

“Better?”

He nodded, “Where’s Eames?”

“How should I know?”

“Are you and Nash a thing then-” Dom gestured at Arthur’s throat, his top button undone in concession to the heat and baring enough of his neck to reveal a telling bruise.

“I have some standards,” Nash smirked.

“Fuck off, the both of you,” Arthur said, but there was no heat in it. “He’ll be back in another ten minutes. You can wait.”

Nash laughed under his breath and mumbled something about coffee, disappearing into the kitchen. Arthur busied himself with properly cleaning and storing the PASIV back into its case.

“Arthur,” Dom reached out and caught his arm. “Thanks. For everything.” 

“Sure, just... be careful, okay?” 

“I will.”


End file.
